Sicily, London and Neverland
by tiger-bell
Summary: Yeah, okay, I'm bad at summaries and titles, but please read and review, a modern panfic, but Peter doesn't appear until Chapter 3. Rated PG13 for minor SEXuality without actual SEX.
1. Default Chapter

Sicily Modder yelled at the door, "I'm coming!" as the bell rang incessantly. She flung open the door and a bucktoothed child of seven with giant coke bottle glasses stood on the step. "Do you know..." he wheezed, "That this used to be...the-" He coughed fitfully and pulled an inhaler out of his pocket. After a few puffs, he continued. "The Darling home? It's a...historical landmark. Peter Pan, you-" He sneezed. Sicily looked down at her spitty shirt disgustedly. "You know, is big here in London..." Sicily narrowed her eyes. "I'm aware. But I don't care about silly children's literature, or your fantasies. I do tell stories though. Maybe Peter Pan will fly to my window and take me away. And I'll ask to bring you with me!" His eyes widened. "Really?" "No." She shut the door and frowned at the kid peering through the glass in the door. She reopened it. "Once upon a time, there was a bratty annoying child with a fake British accent who wouldn't stop annoying his teenage neighbor. His mother asked the girl next door to babysit, and she killed the little boy as soon as they were alone because he was a twit. The end." The little boy's eyes widened even more and his mouth popped open. "Guess what?" She asked him. "W-w-what?" He choked, taking out his inhaler again and puffing it like a lifeline. "This story has a moral- beat it, brat." He didn't need to be reminded. He ran next door and slammed the door behind him, and moments later, she saw him staring down at her from his second story room, locking the window as he gazed over. Walking back in the house, Mrs. Modder asked absentmindedly from behind her /I, "Who was it, dear?" "No one," she answered, walking up to her room. She put on her headphones and began to listen to her Coldplay /I CD, singing along with "Don't Panic". Finally, she put the CD in her boombox so she could dress while she listened to it- she was definitely changing her shirt after that kid sneezed on it. "I'm willing to bet he has rabies." Sicily muttered to herself, taking her shirt off and replacing it with a tight grey shirt proclaiming, "I didn't say it was your fault- I said I would blame you." Looking out the window, she saw a gorgeous brunette riding by on a motorcycle, the wind ruffling his hair as he sped by. When she saw him making a U-turn at the end of her cul-de-sac, she raced downstairs, fingercombing her dark red hair and pulling her shirt down. Quickly, she sat on her front porch swing and began to openly stare at him, smiling. He slowed. "You're new!" "Fresh from New York." She said, sticking out her hand as she walked over to him. "I'm Sicily." He shook her hand and blushed. "I'm Ewan." She ran her hand over his bike slowly. "This is a nice bike...A Ducati?" Ewan looked surprised. "Yeah! How'd you know?" Sicily grinned. "Oh, I don't know...can I have a ride?" He smiled and patted the seat beside him. "Sure!" She held up one finger. "All right, one moment." Running inside, she called from the front door, "Mom! I'll be back in a few hours!" "Oh! Did you make a new friend?" "Uh, yeah," Sicily yelled back. /I wasn't the word she had in mind. The girl straddled the back of the huge motorcycle and Ewan offered her his helmet. She took it and pretended to fumble with the buckle so he would turn and buckle it gently for her. Sliding her arms around his waist, she yelled over the roar of the engine, "Want to hit that new club, the Captain's Hook?" He answered, "As you wish, my lady," speeding off toward the downtown city of London. A few hours later, Sicily and Ewan were heatedly making out in a smoky club, curled up on the barstools of the nonalcoholic bar. He was collapsed against the counter and she was clasping his face, her legs straddling his waist. After a moment, she pulled away for air. "Ewan- I have to get home!" She yelled over the clamor of the music. "One more dance, Sicily?" he pleaded. She agreed and they hit the floor, pulsing to the beat of one of her old favorites, "Ice Ice Baby". She was surprised they had it in London, but she threw herself into it, sliding and shifting to the beat. After an intense last dance in the club, she pulled Ewan out the door and climbed on his bike, him slipping in front of her. He sped to her house and she got off the motorcycle, giving him back his helmet and turning to face him. Sicily smiled. "I had a great time," she said, leaning forward and kissing him. She started to run up to her front door. "Wait! Sicily!" She turned. "Can I have your number?" Ewan called. "No." She answered, beaming, and she shut the door behind her. Sadly, Ewan drove off. Sicily went upstairs and changed into a camisole and short boxers that had candy hearts on them. She watched Ewan leave and frowned. "Guys are way too committal." She said, climbing in bed. 


	2. Shopping for Gowns and Boys

All right, I forgot to mention that the characters of Peter Pan and the Darlings belong to J.M. Barrie/Great Ormond Street Hospital. Also, I lied. Here comes Peter in this chapter, but briefly. I tried not to be cliché and put him in Chapter One but I couldn't resist for Chapter Two...  
  
Le Story:  
  
Sicily woke up to her younger twin sisters, Milan and Venice, jumping up and down on her bed and screaming. Her eyes popped open and she glared. "You have three seconds to get out of my room or you two are dead!" She leapt out of her covers, sending them flying across the room and the twins tumbling across the hardwood floor. They grinned, standing in the doorway. "We saw you kissing! Kissing a-" they burst into giggles- "boy! And we saw the boy in your room!" Sicily grabbed their blond pigtails and dragged them into the hall. "If you rats don't stop making up lies, I will rip your pigtails off your head!" Milan stuck out her tongue and Venice impudently yelled, "Squeak, squeak! I'm a rat!" They giggled down the hall and Sicily groaned. "There was no boy in my room last night. Those two are worse than tabloids." She shut her door and pulled on a floral mini, pairing it with a white tanktop that said in rhinestones, "Diamonds are a girl's BEST friend" and black fishnets. Pulling on her olive Converse lowtops, she walked downstairs and poured a big bowl of cereal- she needed sugar. After a much needed energy boost, Sicily asked her mom to drive her to some shops. Her mom agreed and they hit London's finest, shopping like only women can. After they had quite a collection of bags, they went to the car to drive home. Mrs. Modder smacked her forehead. "Oh! Darling, I forgot- your father and I are going to a formal party later in the week, and the hosts have a daughter your age. They specifically asked that we bring you- you need a dress!" They dropped off the bags and headed back into a little shop called /I. With an armful of gowns, Sicily began to try them on. When she came out with one on, stopping in front of the mirrored platform, her mother bit her lip. "I don't know if that's appropriate for your age..." Sicily narrowed her eyes. "Mom, I'm fifteen." "Still..." Sicily was wearing a cinnamon halter gown that showed most of her tanned back and looked gorgeous with her auburn hair and dark brown eyes. It was fairly simple, but beautiful all the same, and cut just inches above her rear. Instead of V-cutting down into her chest like most halters, it stopped above her chest and cut straight across with a short brown suede ruffle spewing from the neckline. Sicily sighed, "It's perfect, Mom..." Looking in the mirror, she saw a strange boy peering at her over a rack of shirts. He had spiky blond hair, and seemed fairly tall, with attractive boyish features. She couldn't see what color his eyes were, but he was definitely watching her. She turned to get a better look, but he slipped into the crowd mid-turn, and she lost sight of him. "Too bad," she thought. "He was hot. London sure can make 'em." After a few more protests, her mother bought the dress, and they found a pair of 3-inch brown strap heels to go with it. Piling into the mini-cooper, they went to a small outdoor café and ate French fries and small personal pizzas, sipping Cokes and walking the streets when they were finished. As Sicily turned the corner, she saw the boy from /I staring at her. She gave him a coy smile, and he grinned back. "Uh, Mom...?" "Yes, dear?" "I'm gonna go over here for a second, okay? I see something cute." "That's fine. If you need money, come back." "Yeah, I will..." Sicily made her way over to the boy. "Hey." She said. He bowed, and she laughed. "I guess it's never too late for chivalry. I'm Sicily Modder. I noticed you, and apparently you noticed me, from the way you were staring..." He blushed. "I'm Peter." Sicily waited. "And...do you have a last name, Peter?" "Yes." "Are you going to tell me what it is?" "I wasn't planning on it." "I see...are you a runaway?" "Sort of." "Ah...I was kidding." "Well, how old are you? Sixteen?" "I guess." "Well, I tell you what. I'm going to give you my cell phone number. If you find a phone anywhere...call me." "All right." They parted company, and Sicily wandered back to her mother, stopping once to watch Peter walk away. /I "Did you find anything you liked?" Mrs. Modder asked. She smiled. "Oh, /I." 


	3. TowelDroppin'

Sicily was quiet the entire way home as she wondered about Peter. He was very strange, but very cute, and she tried to decide if that would be worth it...Also, she wondered if he was actually a runaway. What had he been wearing? Baggy olive cargo shorts with a grey wifebeater tank, reading, "The Lost Boys' Fight Club", matched with black flip-flops, but they had thin soles- not like the Adidas that most people wore...Perhaps he was homeless as he claimed. Actually, he hadn't said homeless, just that he'd run away. "Oh, well," She thought to herself. If he didn't call, there were plenty of fish in the sea...The girl collapsed on her bed upstairs only to hear squeals and a sharp pain under her back. A tiny fist thrust out from under her comforter and beat her side, and she jumped up. Milan squirmed out from under the blanket, hair mussed and face wrinkled from pillows, yelling, "Hey! I was trying to sleep!" Sicily growled, "Why aren't you sleeping in your own bed?" Milan shrugged. "Venice is in it." Sicily walked down the hall to the twins' bedroom and reached her arms out to shake Venice awake when she stopped. The 6-year-old was sprawled out across the bed, her long blond hair covering the pillow and one leg sticking out of the blanket, hanging off the divan. Slowly, Sicily turned to Milan and said quietly, "Why don't you sleep in her bed? I'll tuck you in." Milan lay down in Venice's bed and curled up, sucking her thumb contentedly, fair blue eyes shutting slowly. Sicily walked out of the room and shut the door. "I'm getting soft." She muttered. Going back in her room, she noticed that it had begun to rain, and that it made a pleasant roar outside, soft and rolling. She lay down and watched it outside the window and her eyes began to droop, so she closed them silently- she was not one to fight sleep. When they fluttered open a moment later, a lot of time had passed- the clock read 10:17. It was pouring outside now, and she got up and changed into a black camisole and a pair of petite shorts that barely covered her rear, white with black and purple pinstripes on them. She heard a knock outside her window. "Odd," Sicily wondered. "I live on the second story..." She opened her window and Peter was hanging on to a porch outside her window that she hadn't known was there. He hung by one arm, and waved with the other. She checked to make sure her door was shut, then pulled him inside. He was dripping wet, and Sicily grabbed a towel. Peter pulled off his shirt and she looked approvingly at his chest- tanned, and fit. As he dried his arms, she wrung out his shirt in the sink in her room. When she turned, his pants lay on the floor, and the boy held the towel around his waist. Sicily hung them with the shirt and turned around, rooting through her drawers and throwing him a pair of huge basketball shorts from a date in New York who'd given her a pair with his number on them. He put them on and sat, looking intently at her. "Well. Peter. Are you staying the night?" Sicily asked. He gave her an unreadable look and said, "Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing." She raised her eyebrows. "No- I don't go that far." He ran his fingers through his blond curls and said, "Well, it was a long shot- it's a pretty lengthy trip, and I barely know you-" as she said in unison, "I mean, I'm new but not stupid and I wouldn't- I barely know you!" They looked at each other. "I think we're talking about different things..." Peter said carefully. Sicily asked him, "What trip?" He stared at her and seemed to be measuring her in his mind, and instinctively, she sucked in her stomach, straightened and raised her chest before she realized she was doing it. Peter asked her slowly, "Are you...happy?" She stuttered, "Sure, I mean, I've got it all, right? I should be!" He repeated himself. "But are you happy?" Without warning, tears began to roll down Sicily's face, and she tucked her knees up on her bed, burying her face in them. Instantly, Peter was beside her, his arms wrapped around her. "Do you want to be happy?" Sicily was furious with herself. She didn't cry- no one was supposed to see when she wasn't happy. It was weakness, lack of control, and she didn't do it! She looked up at Peter, her eyelashes spiky around her coffee eyes and strands of hair stuck to her tears. "I don't think you can do that." His limbs tightened around her, and he asked suddenly, "Where is your dad?" Sicily laughed harshly. "Him? In Virginia. He divorced my mom and ran off with the secretary. Classic. He doesn't want us anymore- he has new kids, a new life, a new house, and I hate him." "You miss him." Said Peter. She began to cry again, and she yelled at herself in her mind- "Stop it! Stop letting him see you cry!" Slowly, he stood up, lingering in the window alcove but not opening the window. "Sicily. You're not going to believe me, but I want you to try. I have to tell you something that's hard to hear the first time." Her face melted. "Oh, God. Are you gay?" He looked thrown and slightly disturbed, shaking his head. "Um, no. What I wanted to say is that...Peter Pan is real. He's me." Sicily laughed. "Are you on crack?" Again, he shook his head and sighed. He pushed off the windowsill and rose into the air a few feet, floating just under the ceiling. Her mouth fell open, and she fainted off the bed, her head hitting the floor and echoing in the room. Peter rushed over and wrung his pant over her forehead, rainwater dripping into her eyes and waking her. Her eyes were wide. "You were- were..." He nodded. "I flew. Would you like to learn?" She gave him a calculated look and slowly stood up, acquiescing suspiciously. Peter put his face dangerously close to her and blew powder into her face, but it didn't burn her eyes. "Pixie dust?" she asked. He smiled. "I suppose you know what to do?" She closed her eyes and thought about Venice sleeping- the first happy thought that came to mind. She felt herself rise slightly, and said skeptically as she looked at her feet, "This is against everything Einstein stood for..." Peter smirked. "Guess what's next?"  
  
((Woo, woo, here comes Neverland...)) 


	4. Stomach Kisses

Peter took Sicily's hand, and she smiled at him, fluttering her lashes flirtatiously. He looked concerned. "Did you get something in your eye? We can stop..." She blushed and shook her head. Peter nodded, then he himself turned red, pointing to her shirt. Sicily looked down and saw that what had been a black top with a keyhole at the collar was now a black vest, seeing as the wind had blown a rip to her belly button. She ripped it the rest of the way and tied the two ends around her, like a tube top with spaghetti straps. Peter pretended to be looking the other way, but Sicily saw him sneak a peek, and she'd arched her back slightly, making his eyes widen. Her mother had always told her she was too engaging with boys; they should be chasing her instead of the other way around. She had simply grinned and said, "But the shy ones are the cutest. Besides," Sicily had grown angry suddenly, upset with her mother and wanting to hurt her. "I'm not the one with three ex-husbands, Mother." "It's no wonder I'm leaving," Sicily thought. "I can't deal with all these rules, all these hypocritical rules!" Peter nodded. "Exactly," he agreed. "I mean, all they want to do is make you just like them...is that really how you want to end up? Unhappy?" He was baiting her, she knew, but she let him- the words sounded so good. "You're right. I should be able to do whatever I want." With that, Sicily backed Peter up against Big Ben, and he sat surprised on the minute hand. 12:15, she noted. Slowly, she hovered in front of the boy, leaning in and kissing him fervently, pressing her lips against his. His eyes opened spaciously just before she closed her own, and after a moment, she felt his tongue on her lips. She willingly opened her mouth for the kiss, and felt his arms slide around her waist, strong and comforting. Fluttering forward, Sicily brought herself drifting right in between his knees as he leaned against the face of the clock, legs bent over the hand. Gently, she broke away, and he looked at her inquisitively. "Well..." She smiled, running a hand through her hair. "You may be...how should I put this- a little young at times, but kissing is definitely a forte. You are not inexperienced, am I right?" Peter lowered his head. "Um, not exactly, but I don't really bring home TOO many girls, really-"Sicily stopped him. "Oh, I know what you mean." She smiled devilishly. "Takes a good experienced kisser to know one." His eyes flashed recognition, and she smirked, flying ahead. The two flew for hours and after a while, she began to try tricks, flying in figure eights and doing airflips. Slowly, Sicily's eyelids drooped, and she fell through the air, peaceful and sweet. Peter cut through the atmosphere and caught her just before she hit the water, slipping his arms underneath hers so that he was holding her slumped against him, hands supporting her by her butt. When they had almost reached Neverland, she raised her head sleepily, auburn hair mussed and wavy. "Morning, sunshine," she smiled. "Not too forward, are ya?" Sicily let her head fall back on his shoulder and straddled her legs around his waist and knotting her hands over his shoulders, holding herself halfway up. She snuggled against him, and Peter smiled. Moments later, she raised her head again, and announced, "I'm up," letting go of him and flying next to him. "We're here." He said proudly, then looked closely at her. "Your hair is wavy." She covered it self-consciously. "Yep, I straighten it." He looked pensively at it. "I like it better this way." Temporarily, Sicily dropped her flirty façade, and didn't say anything, feeling silently flattered. Tilting her head to the side, she examined the boy carefully, smiling slightly. Peter looked at her, confused at her tender look, and took her hand. "Pretty incredible, huh?" "It's wonderful." She breathed. It was like an island from a commercial, with lush green plants overflowing onto the sandy shores, cerulean skies and indigo waves that washed around it. "Would you like to wash up before we see the island?" Sicily nodded in response, and Peter led her to a waterfall that washed over the crocodile's old cave. She dropped into it, Peter following her, and stood under the waterfall, washing her hair as best she could in it. Then she dipped underwater, swimming over to Peter's leg and pulling him under. They came up laughing, and she swam back toward the waterfall after hearing his promise to "get her". Sicily stood there, searching the waters. "Where IS he?" Suddenly, Peter leapt out of the water and tackled her, leaving her lying on the floor of the cave with him on top of her. She grinned. "Well, hello there," He cocked his head, not knowing what she was talking about, and before he could get up, she kissed his cocky smirking mouth. Slowly, all the muscles in Peter's body relaxed, and he kissed back fiercely but gently. Sicily ran her fingertips up his arms, making him shiver involuntarily, and over his neck, ending in his hair. He rolled over and took a deep breath. She climbed on top of him, sitting with legs apart on his waist and leaning against his bent knees. Gently, she ran her hand in circles over his arms. Slowly, Sicily slid his shirt up most of the way and then ran her hand over his bare skin. Peter moaned softly, and she smiled. "Feels good?" She leaned over and kissed his stomach, then pulled his shirt back down. Peter sat up and lay her between his legs, spreading them. He pulled her wet cami up slightly and kissed her own stomach, and she smiled. "Copycat," Sicily whispered, and flew out of the cave, leaving him jumping up to follow and abandoning the moment. 


	5. Unfaithful

Peter flew after Sicily, catching up to her easily. She turned and smiled, leaning over on her back and floating forward with her hands behind her head. "Enjoying yourself?" He leaned over and tickled her. "Of course." She squealed and fell through the sky, plummeting toward the sparkling water below. Her arms were flailing, and her eyes were terrified. "Peter!" She screamed as the water grew closer. Peter's breath knocked out of him as he looked into her departing cinnamon eyes. His mother had eyes like them, he thought sickeningly. He clutched his stomach and bent over, his hair flopping into his eyes. She had been scared the first night he had left, her eyes exactly like Sicily's- Sicily! He was angry at himself for zoning out, especially while she was in danger. Peter pushed his body against the wind as it rushed into his ears. His back arched involuntarily, and his neck cracked sickeningly. From below, Sicily screamed again as his eyes closed and his body went limp, falling past beside her and hitting the water loudly. Forcing the tears from her eyes, she forced herself to think happily. "Um...uh- the kiss!" She jerked to a stop in the air and began to float upward again, six feet above the water. Sicily dove gracefully into the water on her own, shoving her eyes open in the salt water. She saw a blurry dark shape lying on the ocean floor, and upon closer inspection, she recognized it as Peter. Hooking her arms underneath his, she dragged him above water and draped him on a rock. Performing CPR did not help. A woman rose out of the water beside her. Her skin had a bluish tint, and her hair was a deep red color, more vibrant than Sicily's. Her head was lowered, but her eyes were rolled up so that she maintained eye contact. "I can heal him, if you request my help." The words appeared in Sicily's head without the woman speaking, which was both frightening and intriguing, but Sicily made a quick decision. "Yes, please." She said. The woman slithered out of the water next to Peter on the rock, and exposed a shimmering indigo fish tail. Small groups of scales randomly decorated her body above her waist. She reached out a hand with webbed fingers and slid it under Peter's neck, which was twisted at an ugly angle. Suddenly, deep blue smoke rose from her fingers, and there was the hissing sound of water meeting heat. Peter's head rolled into its normal position and his neck untwisted into the usual straight arrangement. He still didn't wake. Slowly, the woman leaned over and kissed his bluish lips, and the same smoking sound ensued. His eyes opened, and he sat up. Smiling at the mermaid, he thanked her, and she giggled like a schoolgirl. Leaning forward, she kissed him again briefly and dove into the water soundlessly, without a splash. Peter ran a finger through his hair sheepishly and looked at Sicily. "Sorry. That was Miranda, and she's had to save me three times this week. She feels that my kisses are payment." Sicily laughed and said, "No worries. I'll probably be kissing more than you while I'm here." His eyes flashed and she grinned. "Now, what do you mean, save you?" "Well, I can't die. If I die, Neverland dies with me, and there will be much more pain in the world than you could ever imagine. Nothing hurts the world like a child screaming, tormented, because they're being abused, in whatever way. The neighbors ignore it, so I fly them here, give them hope. Therefore, when I'm reckless, for instance the way I flew with my body straight into a sharp wind, Miranda has to bring me back, I guess you could say." Sicily nodded. "That makes sense." She stopped treading water and rose into the air, extending a hand. Peter took it and got up off the rock, floating next to her. "Let's go meet the Lost Boys," She said. When they were inside the home underground, her attention immediately fell upon a sulky boy of about Peter's age in the corner. He had dark hair, a deep tan and piercing green eyes. He was stocky, and dressed in a pair of baggy jeans. Peter introduced her to the rest of the boys, but she wasn't paying attention until he got to Benno- the hot guy. She flipped her hair and gave him a dazzling smile. "The pleasure's all mine." She extended a hand and he shook it, making a fist when their hands parted and placing his hand on his lap. She told Peter, "I'll be sleeping in...?" He said proudly, "Wendy's house," and led her through the woods into a cozy cottage. Benno opened the tiny piece of paper slipped between his fingers. "When Peter comes back, go to my bedroom." He smirked. Sicily closed the door behind herself and locked the quaint latch. Pulling him over by his hips, Sicily pressed her lips to his, slipping her tongue into his mouth. It tasted of saltwater from the mermaid and she thought to herself, "We'll have to make sure he knows his preferences." She pulled back and leaned over, kissing his neck and leaving him breathing heavily as his skin burned where she'd touched it. Peter put one hand steadily on her stomach, and she slid up her shirt underneath it, leaving it resting on naked skin. Slowly, he pulled away and sat on Wendy's bed and leaning against the wall behind it. Sicily sat in his lap and put her hands on his cheeks, continuing to make out with him. He put his hands on her butt, sliding his hands up the bottom of the pajama shorts but over her underwear. Twisting slightly, he laid himself on the bed and Sicily fell into place on top of him, one leg on either side as she readjusted. She pulled off his shirt and threw it out the window next to her, sopping wet and kissed his chest. Then she laid her head on it, gently, pretending to sleep. She felt him roll her over and get up, opening the creaky door and slipping out. She jumped up and smoothed her hair, lying on the bed and waiting. Moments later, Benno entered. She asked him point-blank, "Am I attractive?" He looked caught off-guard, then answered, "Yes." "Good," She said, then walked over to the door and kissed him passionately, letting him taste her tongue. He slid a hand up her shirt, and she smiled. "He moves fast," Sicily thought, and she closed the door behind him. Benno leaned against it and she, in turn, leaned against him. Suddenly, she heard Peter's voice beside her. "What- what's going on?" 


End file.
